What's my name again?
by Lady Jane's Muse
Summary: Sam and Dean decide on their next alias. one shot


For the past two hours the Impala had been the only car on the road and the view had been seemingly endless fields of corn swaying in the breeze. Dean couldn't really blame his little brother for falling asleep but, despite driving his car being one of his most favourite activities, he didn't think he had been so bored in his life. In fact, if he didn't have a bit of conversation soon he'd be in danger of falling asleep himself. As they passed a road sign declaring their destination of Summerville, Nebraska was merely fifteen miles further down the deserted road, Dean finally had an excuse to wake Sam from his peaceful rest.

"Yo Dude! Earth to Sam!" he yelled, leaning over slightly to get closer to his brother's ear, and was rewarded by the sudden jerk Sam gave against the seat belt as he woke up. "Why don't you wipe the drool off your chin and tell me what my name is?" he asked, unable to hide his smile at Sam's sleepy confusion.

"What? I was just taking a nap, Dean. I don't have concussion or something." Sam replied, as he ran a hand over his face and peered out of the window. "Where the hell are we?"

"We're about twenty minutes away from Summerville and you know what I meant. You've had hours to think about this but you still can't rise to the challenge!"

"Dean, it's stupid." Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "I don't see why you can't just pick a name from one of your fake Ids. You've got enough to choose from."

"Hell, that's no fun. Sam, it's you turn to come up with our names and they have to be good."

"Can't we just do star wars again? Sam asked, hoping that his brother was going to back down.

"No way. Every time it's your turn to pick an alias we end up being Agents Ford and Hamill. Those names are starting to be bad luck and one of us will end up in jail - probably me, I might add - and we'll have to use the Force or spare paperclips to make our escape. Besides, you agreed to the deal. Time for you to come up with something new, dude."

Sam couldn't argue with Dean's logic. Those names had been bad luck since Sam started hunting again. The last time they used those identities they only just made it out of the small Texan town they had been working in. Normally, Sam considered himself to be a pretty inventive person but for some reason his honest streak always let him down when he had to think of a fake name. Once a name had been decided on, he had no problem keeping to the cover story but deciding on a name out of the millions available was just too much for him to handle. Dean's challenge had narrowed the possibilities somewhat but, seeing as music was Dean's thing, it didn't really help Sam to achieve his goal.

"What are the rules again?" Sam asked, more to buy himself a bit more time than because he needed a reminder.

"It's got to be the names of musicians, preferably of the rock persuasion, that we haven't used before. Oh, and nothing too obvious 'cause if you go around calling yourself Ziggy Stardust we might get more attention than we need."

"Let me think for a second," Sam replied as he stretched his cramped muscles as much as he could in the passenger seat. "Ok, why don't you be John Bonham?"

"Used it," Dean said, taking his eyes off the road for a second to throw a trademark smirk in his brothers direction.

"When?"

"When we were in Burkitsville, Indiana. You know, the place with the apple pie and the freaky scarecrow. Didn't really get away with it 'cause that Scotty dude was a Zepplin fan but I've still used it so you can't pick it now."

"But I wasn't even with you then." Sam protested

"Doesn't matter. I've used it so pick again."

"Well, what about Paul Frehley?"

"Nah, used that too," Dean replied, greatly amused by his brothers frustration. "Remember when we were in Michigan because you had that dream about Max? I was Father Frehley. You were Father Simmons so you can scratch Gene Simmons off your list too."

The car continued to purr along the road and it wasn't long before they passed the sign welcoming them to the small town they would call home for the next few days. Every name Sam thought of was one that Dean insisted they had used before and he was getting increasingly annoyed with his older brother. He was sure that Dean was just rejecting his suggestions automatically to get a rise out of him.

"Any more ideas?" Dean asked, with glee in his voice. "We're only a few minutes out of town now, dude, so the clock is ticking. You can't think of a name by the time I drive down Main Street and you'll have to accept the forfeit!"

The thought of dealing with their laundry for the next month spurned Sam on and got him thinking again. It wasn't the actual washing of the clothes that annoyed him. After all, shoving their dirty clothes in the machine and adding powder didn't take much effort. The part he hated was the ironing and, despite his general scruffy appearance, Dean would sadistically insist that everything be neatly pressed before he would declare the chore finished. Sam desperately racked his brains as he tried to remember the names of the artist he enjoyed listening to but he had been stuck in Dean's car for so long, cassette tape mullet rock blaring from the speakers, he could no longer remember which CDs he had in his now redundant collection. He tried to think back to his college days when he would come home early from lectures and put some music on to relax before he started to work on his assignments, determined not to let Dean win.

He wasn't sure where the image popped up from but it had nothing to do with his own musical tastes and it had been a while since he had enjoyed remembering the happy moments he and Jess had spent together. The picture he saw in his mind was of Jess dancing around the kitchen in their small apartment, spatula replacing the microphone, her voice most definitely off key as she sang along to a stupid pop song that she had loved.

"I've got it!" Sam declared. "For the duration of our stay in this fine example of small town America, we shall be known as Jordan and Jonathan Knight!"

"Who the hell are they?" Dean asked in confusion. His extensive musical knowledge had never let him down before and he was definitely not satisfied with Sam's mumbled reply. "What? Are you trying to cheat by making names up?"

"No, I'm not cheating! I said they're from New Kids on the Block and, unless you're a secret fan and have used their names without my knowledge, I think I've just won."

"No way! They're from a boy band and I refuse to be named after a boy band! You're supposed to think of someone cool, Sam. You know, someone who can do more than pose for teenage girls!"

"You said musicians and, unless I'm mistaken, singers are musician whether they're in a boy band or not. You didn't specify coolness as part of the criteria." Sam replied calmly as he took in the shops on either side of the road. "By the way, I think this is Main Street, Summerville, Dude. Like I said, I won!"

"Fine," Dean said, never one to welch on a bet "But just remember that the next town we go to is my turn!"

"Yeah? Well, bring it on dude." Sam smiled, not able to resist marking his score in the air before climbing out of the car.


End file.
